


I'm Glad You're Here

by mustlovemustypages



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison still dies, Banshee Lydia Martin, Banshee Powers, Canon, Canon Death, Canon-Compliant, Coach Finstock cares, F/M, Gen, Lydia is concerned about Stiles, Nogitsune, Nogitsune Stiles, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Season 3, Stydia, What could have happened, banshee - Freeform, economics class, season 3b, what I wish had happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-04-08 16:40:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4312536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustlovemustypages/pseuds/mustlovemustypages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A reflective look at before and after the Nogitsune ruined their lives. Coach Finstock is concerned about Stiles, which makes Lydia worry even more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Glad You're Here

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot is canon-compliant, but involves scenes that were not actually shown in the TV show. I wish they had been though. A focus on Stiles, Lydia and Coach Finstock with mentions of Scott and Allison.

Stiles had been acting strange lately.

Correction, he had been acting stranger _than usual_ lately. Because Stiles being his normal self always edged on weird anyways. For starters, he fidgeted a lot. Which usually resulted in some sort of mishap, and something dangerous flying through the air. Second, he talked incessantly. Stiles wasn’t being Stiles unless words were coming from his mouth at a mile a minute. And third, he was ridiculously observant. He noticed everything and never failed to point it out.

These three traits were what let Lydia to believe that something was seriously wrong with her best friend.

Sitting there in economics, Lydia stared at the back of Stiles’s head, watching and waiting. But he didn’t move. He was eerily still, sitting slouched over in his seat with his gaze locked straight on the front of the classroom. Maybe on a different day it would pass for him paying attention; however, when the teacher was currently yelling at Greenberg again at the back of the room, he was the only one who was not turned around to watch it all go down. And Stiles may be nice, but he wasn't a saint.

Before class, when Lydia had been chatting with Scott, she had done her usual pause to allow Stiles to jump in. It had become a habit with her – finding a natural break to let him interject instead of having him intersperse side comments in the middle of her diatribes. Usually it worked pretty well. Not when Stiles wasn’t speaking though. He hadn't even attempted to pretend like he was listening at all. 

More than any of that though, what really bothered Lydia was that he hadn’t commented on Coach Finstock’s new track suit. Even out of the corner of her eye, the offending bright green outfit burned her retinas. Just seeing it for a split second had made her feel the instant urge to go shopping and purge her mind of such a fashion travesty.

Stiles hadn’t made a peep. No double takes. No snickers with Scott. No offhanded comments to the teacher about how the green really brought out the color of his eyes.

The realization that Stiles was not acting like Stiles set her on edge. When Coach Finstock had finally finished reprimanding Greenberg for whatever mistake he had done that time, the bell was ringing signaling the end of class. Lydia reached down for her books in a hurry so that she could walk out with Stiles, but when she straightened back up, he was already gone.

To add another notch to the unease building in her chest, Finstock held her after class. “Lydia? Could I speak with you for a minute?”

Scott was walking out right beside her and frowned. Lydia never got in trouble, always got good grades, and never ever was asked to stay after class. It just didn’t happen. “It’s fine Scott,” Lydia whispered, pushing him along towards the door. “I’ll see you guys at lunch.”

When the classroom had finished emptying out, Lydia turned her attention to her teacher who was erasing the chalkboard of notes. She stood there silently for a moment before clearing her throat. Finstock jumped and dropped the eraser. “Ah, Ms. Martin… right.” Clearly having forgotten that she was standing there, he brushed the chalk dust off his hands and scratched the back of his head uncomfortably. “I don’t normally do this, but I felt like I had to say something. Like it was my… my… ethic…”

“Ethical duty?” Lydia supplied, trying to keep her growing impatience at bay.

Finstock nodded fervently. “Exactly. Ethical duty… Anyways, I just wanted to ask about Stilinski.”

Lydia was immediately confused. “Stilinski? What about Stiles?” Her mind jumped to a million conclusions. He seemed to be struggling with his homework a little bit, but that was natural after everything they gone through recently. Lydia herself had been more absent-minded than usual, doodling in her notes and not always paying attention as much as she should.

“Well,” Finstock started, clearly trying to find the right way to say whatever he was trying to spit out. “Stiles has just been acting different lately, and I wanted to make sure he was okay.”

The irony that Finstock was concerned was not lost on Lydia. In fact, since he usually had a complete lack of regard for student welfare, that made his concern for Stiles even more alarming. “Different how?” Lydia prodded. She had definitely noticed changes in her friend, but she was curious to see what her teacher had noticed.

Finstock gave her a hard look. “Ms. Martin, it is not lost on me that Stiles is a bright student. I’ve said as much in parent teacher conferences in fact.” Part of Lydia wanted to point out that he really shouldn’t be discussing private conferences with her as a student, but she figured Finstock didn’t really care about any of that legal business anyways so she kept it to herself. “However, Stiles is not what one would call a _focused_ young man.” Lydia had to hold a snort in at that one. “The past few weeks though, he’s just seemed… off. No back talking. No snarky comments to Greenberg. No whispering with his attached-at-the-hip life partner Scott McCall.” At that Lydia did crack a smile, which Finstock quickly returned. His smile dropped as he continued though, “Even if it may not seem like it, I really do care, and I have this feeling that something is not right.”

Seeing Finstock’s foreign expression of earnestness made her want to both laugh and cry at the same time. “I think Stiles is just going through a rough patch,” she said while trying to stifle a yawn that had appeared out of the blue. She rubbed blearily at her eyes, thinking that how Stiles looked, withdrawn and exhausted, was exactly how she was feeling too. Something was definitely wrong, Finstock was right about that. Maybe it was her new banshee abilities, but Lydia could feel something different in the air.

“Okay.” Finstock seemed relieved to have gotten that off of his chest. “I even wore this ridiculously ugly suit to get a rise out of him today and nothing! Nada! It’s like he’s an entirely different person. I never thought I would say it, but a non-talkative Stiles scares me.”

“Me too,” Lydia admitted, her voice small. Stiles was always the one she went to when she was worried and needed help, but she had no idea who to turn to when he was the one she was concerned about. “I’m trying. I really am.”

The bell rang just then for the next class to start, effectively wrapping up their conversation. “I know you are,” Finstock said, expression serious. “Here, let me grab you a hall pass so you won’t be counted tardy.”

“Thanks Coach Finstock.”

* * *

 

All three – Lydia, Scott and Stiles – were not together again in class for a few weeks after that day. The following period, Stiles had had a melt down in Mr. Yukimura’s classroom. According to Scott, who had been there at the time, Stiles was called up front to read something from the history book when he almost collapsed and had a panic attack.

Things only got worse from there. No one was themselves after the sacrifice to the Nemeton, but Stiles suffered the worst of all. Lydia could practically remember the moment when everything changed. Stiles, who used to be the safest member of their group, was then the one to be feared.

Well, it wasn’t Stiles really, just his body being used by the Nogitsune. Lydia had to remind herself and everyone else of the difference constantly. 

They all lived in a constant state of panic during that time. Lydia had felt like she was slowly losing her mind. Before, even amidst all of the crazy werewolf events that had come their way, she had still felt grounded, almost safe with the idea that together they could get through anything. With Stiles missing though, she felt like a string had been cut, disconnecting her from reality and leaving her to float haphazardly in the wind. It was only made worse by the fact that she was hearing unexplainable voices, which didn’t make any sense and only provided further evidence that things were about to go very very wrong.

When the hurricane of the Nogitsune hit, it left only destruction in its wake. The creature that looked like Stiles but was not really Stiles had held her hostage. She had warned everyone to stay away, knowing it was a trap. Of course, no one had listened.

Lydia remembered seeing Stiles. _Her Stiles_. She remembered the pallor of his skin, the slow way he walked. He had seemed to be one breath away from dying, but at the time she had just been relieved to have him back. Everything made more sense when he was around. For the first time since the Nogitsune had taken over, she had felt like herself again. When she had screamed, falling over Stiles’s unconscious body in the tunnel, she had known it wasn’t a scream for him. She didn’t know how she knew, when every other voice that had called to her recently was lost in utter confusion. That time though, she knew in her gut that it meant someone had died. That Allison had died.

So when the three finally returned to economics, it seemed sort of surreal to Lydia. Each had made separate appearances over the weeks, but never together. Being back gave her a sense of calm that only school could do.

There, sitting in her usual seat, Lydia once again was looking at the back of Stiles Stilinski’s head. This time though, it was turned to the side as he chatted with Scott. They were bent over their desks, whispering about some new supernatural concern, so although it might not have been normal for anyone else, it was normal for them.

Stiles was still pale, but the color was slowly returning to his cheeks. While there was something more restrained in his movements than before the Nogitsune took over, he had returned to small fidgets. At that moment, he was tapping some erratic beat on his desk that a year ago would have caused Lydia to rip the pencil right from his hand.

As if he could feel the pull of her gaze, Stiles turned at that moment to catch Lydia staring at him. Lydia froze, half expecting to see the cold, dead eyes of the Nogitsune Stiles looking back at her. Instead she was met with familiar warm eyes and smile. Stiles lifted his eyebrows as if to ask if she was okay, and Lydia took only a moment to nod back.

That was something that Stiles had been doing a lot – checking to make sure she was alright. He had practically strangled Lydia after finding out that she had gone into his mind to save him. When he had ordered her to never risk her life for his again she had adamantly refused. So instead he checked in on her constantly. Maybe in the future she would grow annoyed with it, but after having gone without Stiles for so long, she welcomed it. His check-ins let her know that it was really him in there.

Lydia was not just Stiles’s anchor. He was hers too.

After economics that day, Finstock asked Lydia to stay and talk again. That time it was Stiles and not Scott that hesitated. “I’ll be fine Stiles,” she said with a laugh. When he still looked unsure, not really wanting to let her out of his sight, she gave him a pointed glare and he skittered out immediately.

This time, Finstock cut right to the chase. “Mr. Stilinski seems better,” he commented after watching Stiles traipse out of the room. His lips quirked to the side and Lydia could tell he was trying to hold in grin, no doubt thinking of how Stiles had transformed in class that day. He had started off silent, which only Lydia and Scott knew was attributed to the guilt he felt at almost killing Finstock during his Nogitsune phase. It was a lot of guilt to take in, and Lydia could practically feel it radiating from Stiles every time she looked at him.

After Finstock had peeled off his jacket halfway through class to reveal a jersey for the Philadelphia Phillies; however, not even Stiles’s guilt could keep him quiet. Right in the middle of a discussion about open market operations, Stiles had interrupted to express his outrage at the coach’s choice of clothing and how the entire city in Pennsylvania was an abomination to the name of baseball.

Only Lydia had seen the brief surprise on Finstock’s face in hearing Stiles speak again, even if it was to ridicule him. Finstock had not missed a beat, yelling back, “Can it Stilinski, my grandmother’s from Philadelphia!” Stiles was a hardcore Mets fan, which even Finstock knew if his sardonic smile was any indicator.

With that first outburst out of the way, Stiles had quickly fallen back into his old patterns, much to the pleasure of his friends and displeasure of half their peers. Either way, economics had ended with her feeling happier than when class had started, which was not usually the case.

“Yes he does,” Lydia agreed.

“Whatever you did…” Finstock started to say, but Lydia quickly interrupted.

She shook her head. “I didn’t do anything.”

He gave her a disbelieving look. “Keep the poker games for your popularity façade Ms. Martin. I know that you are a big part of the reason Stiles is back to normal. Well, what I mean to say that he’s as normal as Stiles Stilinski is ever going to get.”

Lydia never thought she would hear any of those words come out of Coach’s mouth. What happened next, which was him placing a hand on her shoulder, was even more unexpected. “I don’t know what you kids are involved in, and really, I don’t want to know,” he said quietly. “But if you ever need anything, I will do everything in my power to help, do you understand?”

At that, Lydia felt like crying. It had been a long couple of weeks, and after everything, it took the last person she had expected to realize how lucky she was to be standing there.

With a sniff, Lydia stepped back and Finstock dropped his arm, immediately going back to the awkward teacher that she was familiar with. “And I’m sorry to hear about Allison. She was a wonderful person.”

“She was,” Lydia agreed, wiping carefully at her eyes and eyeing the door. Now that the moment was over, she wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. Seeing her wayward glances, Finstock shooed her out with the excuse that she was going to be late to class, and he wasn’t going to write her another late slip.

As Lydia exited the classroom, she was pleased to see that the halls were still packed with students bustling to and from their lockers. She paused in surprise though when she noticed Stiles standing right outside the door. He was leaning against the wall, and when he saw Lydia he straightened and adjusted the backpack hanging over his shoulder. He took in Lydia’s teary eyes and red nose with alarm. “Everything okay?” he asked, his gaze darting back towards Finstock’s room before returning to rest on Lydia.

“Yes,” she said, then before she could talk herself out of it, she dove into Stiles's chest and wrapped her arms around him. It obviously took him by surprise, but as always Stiles took it in stride and pulled her in closer. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she mumbled into his shirt. While she missed Allison terribly, she was selfishly glad that Stiles had survived. She needed him, plain and simple. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his words muffled by her hair. When she nodded, he relaxed a bit but not completely. “Alright,” he sighed, not quite convinced. He pulled back slightly to look down at her. “How about I walk you to class?”

“Sounds perfect.” Lydia carefully stepped back out of the hug. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, she took his hand in his and took a step forward, ignoring the shock that she was sure to find on his face. “Come on, I don’t have all day.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! I love exploring certain aspects of the Teen Wolf plotlines a little deeper. Whenever we get glimpses of Coach Finstock actually having a heart, I just want to smile and reach through the screen for a hug saying, "You really do care!" Awww... 
> 
> Really, I have a hard time believing that more teachers wouldn't have been concerned with Stiles out-of-character behavior. And who better to speak up than our resident heart-of-a-teddy-bear, lacrosse coach?!
> 
> Not beta-ed, but I tried to do my best with editing. Apologies if it's not perfect. Let me know what you think!


End file.
